Shattered Hope
by Ironhide
Summary: A novelisation of RE:Outbreak.Follows a different first person perspective per scenario.Revision of chapter 4. New chap coming soon.
1. Prolouge

Raccoon City, just a normal town, full of people, sprawling industrial estates, chains of shops connected in endless webs, and the streets full of children playing happily without a damn care in the world, well, that was before the murders started. That mess made nationwide news, and then the anti-terrorist unit S.T.A.R.S were sent in late July.

That was one hell of a disaster, from my understanding; almost the entire team got wiped out. Blew the living hell outta some private mansion to the north too. The survivors? They had some madcap story about zombies and Umbrella, Raccoon City's biggest single employer. Can you imagine that? A horror movie happening in your town's backyard? Nah, nah, I didn't think so.

Heh… needless to say the press had a field day. The survivors just disappeared one

day. All sorts of rumours were running wild, about what the S.T.A.R.S survivor's had done, what 'really' happened on that night. It has to be said; those murders stopped once that mansion got wrecked, and for a while, the children played on the streets again. That was until early this month. Those murders started _again._Exactly the same as before, some poor kid wanders off, and BAM, another tragic case. This time the cops couldn't do a thing. They'd spent their ace in the hole when they sent in S.T.A.R.S.

That fat pig of a police chief Irons was on TV earlier tonight, sprouting the usual crap: You know the deny and confirming nothing story:

"_We cannot confirm, nor deny that these heinous crimes are the work of the perpetrators of the crimes earlier this year. The police department is dedicating every single available officer on to this case immediately. We **will** catch these criminals, and I intend to push for the death penalty, my heart is with the poor victims families tonight" Irons started down at the camera, that pig face arranged into a laymen's expression of sympathy, his voice oiled and polished to a superb sheen._

Wonderful speech, shame it didn't say anything other than we're going to catch them. Fat asshole. You know, I really hate that kinda crap, why can't they just say what they mean to say outright? Blaargh!

I hear he's intending to run for Mayor when the next election comes round, welll he ain't getting my vote. Screw him. Michael Warren at least understands the common man, while Ironsie just treats us like we were five. I hate politics, they just don't speak English, it's like they have this special language where yes means no and no means yes.

Come to think of it, I'd better phone in to see if I can finally go back to work tomorrow, three days! Three fricking days! The cops have been there, investigating. I'm not even being paid for crying out loud. I need money man, I've got some left but it's not much, just enough to tide me over for the next few days, but for once I really wish I could go to work.

Did I just say that? Jeeez something's wrong with me if I'm saying that. That and what's with everyone coming down with the flu as well? It's just the middle of September!

Down at work, half of them phoned in sick before the cops started investigating. I just hope Rickys in when I go back; he needs to get those trainers of his back before they stink out my flat. They reek! His feet ain't human, he's something else… When I get a hold of him he's gonna wish he'd never been born for forgetting those things. I swear… It's getting late, I'm off to bed. Screw phoning in, I'll do it in the morning.


	2. Early morning festivities

The first thing I heard this morning was a piercing banshee howl and it cut through me like a knife. I glanced up at the banshee and by its dim green glow it told me it was nine o' clock. For some reason that I couldn't remember the time was plaguing me with some ulterior motive behind it that for the life of me, I couldn't think why. It wasn't until I rose from my bed and trudged into the bathroom and had splashed cool water into my face to wake me up (a daily ritual) that I remembered what it was that was bugging me. I forgot to phone work! **SHIT!   
**Crap crap crap! 

I flew from the bathroom, past the unmade mess of my bed (It's a mess so what? If it bugs you then sue me!) And zoomed into what the landlord calls the sitting room. I call it the box room with a window, which isn't even double glazed for crying out loud! My ass gets frozen every time winter comes round. I **swear** I'm going to die of hypothermia one of these winters. I ripped the phone off the hook and dialled the number. It took an eternity for them to pick up.

"Raccoon city Subway, admin department" came a deep barking voice, it belonged to Michael Carver, chief of human resource management. Just who I wanted to speak to! Today may not be a bad day after all. "Who's speaking?"

"Hey Mike, it's me Jim," I spoke quickly; hope burning in me for a chance to earn some cash. How I needed it, desperately, that bitch of a Landlord had raised the rent and was looking for cash.

"Chapman?" Michaels deep bark rolling down the line.

"Yeah!"

"Sorry man, but the police are still carrying out their investigation, no work today."

_So much for today being a good day _

"**_WHAT! _**Your kidding right?" I screamed, my heart in my mouth I needed that money so much

"You gotta help! I'm practically broke here! I need my job man.!"

"Look, I'm sorry," Carver, said, calmly "Maybe they'll be finished tomorrow, I'll have someone call over if they are ok?"

Before I could reply he hung up.

Damn! I put the phone down and cast a look around the room; it was a total mess, with pizza, beer cans, and other pleasant things. Normally when this mess gets too much I just hire a maid for a few days until it's neat and tidy. Not right now, I can't afford one. From where I'm standing I can see the kitchen, and it's even worse.

_Great! Just what I needed!_

"_Urgh! MY LIFE IS SHIT!_" I roar, letting all the negativity burst out into a rant of unholy proportions. "I've got no job, since those stupid cops can't get their act together and solve these murders quick enough, I've no girlfriend, no money, and to top it all off my apartments a complete and total hellhole! Why me! WHY ME!"

There was a sudden thumping noise from above, I jumped and looked upwards. And heard a muffled roar of "SHUT UP YOU WHINY BRAT!" Mr Meldrew, that moany old git, it's perfectly alright for him to make a noise and rant because he's over sixty and is entitled to it, and I'm not. Usually I argue back at him but today I just can't be bothered at all. I'm having a lousy day and I don't need some old guy's whining about today's' disrespectful youth to help make it better.

I trawl through my disorganised home and get dressed in my work uniform, as it's the first thing I find. I put on my cap and make sure I'm carrying my lucky coin; I've had that coin since I was seven. It's just a good luck charm. I got from my grandpa. He told me that it had the power to change fate, and I believed him. In fact I owe my life to that coin, but that's another story, maybe I'll tell you about it someday.

I walk over to Richmond's, (the general grocers on our street) and bought myself a paper, which had the biggest crossword in it. Here I must confess: I'm a puzzle nut, you give me any puzzle and I'll think to the death on what the answer is. I love crosswords, forget that, I obsess over them and dig into their history. Did you know that a crossword in World War II had answers that were identical to the codenames for the D- Day beach landings? Turns out they were just pure coincidence.

Stop looking at me ok? I know I'm a bit of a freak when it comes to puzzles.

Come to think of it, I'm a hungry freak, a very hungry freak indeed. The nearest place I could think of that wouldn't rip me off and served _good_ food was Jack's, just across the road. It isn't until I cross the street, that I notice how unusually quiet everything is today.

Under any normal circumstances Rowantree Street is full of life, with people going about their business of making their way to their work or whatever. Old man Richmond was surprised to see me, said I'd been his first customer today… I don't understand this so much, has that flu crap become some kinda epidemic? Come to think of it Ricky had said that they were being overwhelmed by people calling in sick before we got our asses kicked out for the cops. Man I've been so hungry lately, and I've been sorta feeling like I'm coming down with something. I decide to visit Ricky after I've had some lunch, he'll be bored shitless too, and I can moan about something without being told I'm a disrespectful brat for once.

I open the door and the warm smoky air mingles with the crisp fall air. Inside, there was no one except for the bar staff, Will, the resident chef extraordinaire and the waitress who every drunk falls for. Cindy's her name I think. I don't really know anyone in here well except for Will (because I once gave him a free ticket for the subway as thanks for getting me off the hook for an unpaid meal at Jack's. Always repay a debt, for a kind deed.) Seems business is down here too. This flu crap must be on the rise.

The bar's namesake, Jack is one hell of a creepy guy. He adores fine wines and I've had it heard that he stocks vintage wine, but only offers it for sale to his best friends. And I'm talking rare stuff too from the eighteen hundreds, Jacks such a freak.

Asides from the two standing over at the bar counter, I was the only person here, Jack around, that's odd, he's _always _around watching what his customers are doing.

"Whoa-hey! A customer." Came a surprised voice from the back. It was a guys voices, so it could only be Will.

"You guys still serving lunch? I'm hungry." I asked.

"That's the Jim I know, his stomach comes before anyone and anything else." Will joked.

I put my hands in the air as a gesture of surrender, playing along

"You've got my number." I said as I rubbed the back of me head awkwardly. "Any chance of some of your famous bean Soup? I'm dying here!"

Will laughed, a carefree laugh.

"Ok, one bean soup, I'll go cook it up for you." He started to head towards the stove nearby, but then he paused suddenly. He turned back towards me with a deep frown on his face. "Oh, but there is a problem," he said.

"What?" I asked, my stomach crying out in panic.

"Your sure you can afford this right?" Will said, his face completely serious..

_Oh of all the people in the world! _

I opened my mouth furiously to yell at him when he burst out laughing,

"It's ok!" his laughter trembling through his words, " I know you're gonna pay, I'll get Cindy here to bring it over to you when it's ready ok?" he nodded his head towards Cindy, who smiled and waved in a very cute manner.

With my hunger crisis close to resolution, I settled down and begun to read my paper. All over the front page was Ironsies big fat pig face and that damn line from his speech on TV:

"Irons intends to push for the death penalty" 

Just the usual crap. Sometimes I don't know why I even bother to buy a paper. All they feature these days is the same rubbish about those murders, as if anyone this side of the moon doesn't know already about it.

By the time I'd finished the article, (_They will pay for killing innocent citizens!)_

The soup was ready, Cindy brought it over to me as Will had said, and I thanked her. She just smiled again. The soup was good, one of the reasons why I eat at Jacks. Once I'd finished eating, and the bowl had been taken away (by the lovely Cindy), Will came over. We just talked about life in general, I even asked him where the master of creepiness the Jackmeister was (seemingly he was sick from flu also). Will talked about getting me a job here when I told him about my money troubles. What can I say, he's a nice guy at heart, he even told me about his love for Cindy, but it was sad as well as he didn't know how to express it to her. By the time I looked out again, it was getting dark, and I didn't like the look of it, so I decided to stay where I was. I'd phone Ricky later I made a mental note to ask him what the cops were investigating at work as I didn't know.

Eventually, Jack's got some more customers, meaning Will had to go and tend to them. A pair of old, fat, security guards who looked like they couldn't catch a fly, (one of whom looked really ill), came in and ordered a pint along with some food, seems I'm not the only one who likes the food. Not too long after that some thirty something woman came in with a laptop, she ordered some food and just sat over by the window working away on the laptop, evident by the clacking of the things keyboard. With nothing better to do as Will was busy I decided to open up my paper at the crossword section and get stuck in.

One of the fat guys asked for the news to be put on the TV. Some random dribble about some fan on crack that caused mass panic at the football game earlier in the day. Bleh who cares? Damn guy had too much to drink.

Now back to my crossword…

Oh crap! This is a toughie. Damn Damn Damn! I'll just need to think…

I turn my cap round back to front, an old habit when I'm concentrating and it helps me focus. I was so absorbed by the puzzle that I didn't hear the door opening, but that putrid smell doesn't escape me.


	3. The unexpected guest

The smell attacked my nostrils unpleasantly, the best way I can describe the smell is like a mix between rotten fruit and shit. With the smell occupying my interest I look up to see the offending article to my sense of smell. What do I see? A hobo.

Now that I think about what is a hobo doing here? He won't have any money to buy anything so whys he here? I'm not the only one who's suspicious; my eyes met with one of the fat security guards who's also looking him over (the other ones passed out on the bar), and his expression of that of one of both suspicion and disgust. Even Will's looking at him funny, but then I see him shrug it off. Must be used to it. He's muttering to himself as he picks up a tray and loads some glasses (that women and mines order I think) onto it and makes his way slowly towards the hobo. I look back at the hobo, and give him a proper look over.

The guy had shoulder length, brown hair caked with grease, which reminded me of all these 'great' rock stars on stage. He also had sorta white-grey jeans marked with grass stains everywhere. The guy has obviously been sleeping rough. He was wearing a matching grey jacket, with a white t-shirt. He was hunched over and having trouble keeping upright a sure sign he was drunk, probably of that cheap industrial alcohol crap. The hobos greasy hair obscuring his face.

Will had walked as slowly as he could towards the drunken hobo, I could see Will was having a hard time avoiding scrunching up his nose from that smell. He stood a few feet away from the hobo and tried to get his attention.

"Uh sir?" started Will his tone polite, businesslike, a tone I usually heard from customer's that weren't welcome here . "Sir would you like something?"

"Urrggh" the Hobo stirred, its fists clenching and unclenching rapidly.

"Sir, if your not going to order anything then I'm afraid your going to have to leave." continued Will, his face grim.

Suddenly the hobo made a movement towards Will as if to grab him, but Will accustomed to having drunks move towards him aggressively, side stepped him and then swung the tray towards the hobo's face. With a wet, heavy, meaty _smack_, the hobo staggered back outside. Will immediately slammed the door shut and turned the lock.

"Sorry about that, it's been a while since we've had the likes of him." He said sheepishly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck "I'll unlock the door once he's realised he's not welcome and he buggers off."

Just then I heard a sudden thud. I spun round in my stool to see-

The ill looking fat security guard fall off his stool, his buddy leapt off his stool, and knelt down beside him, he was checking for a pulse. Cindy also made her way over towards them.

"Bob?"

No answer.

"Bob?" the concern in his voice was now evident.

"Damnit, he's unconscious," he withdrew his hand from Bob's neck.

"Does anyone know where a phone is so I can call an am-"

The guard was cut short by a sudden heavy pounding on the door where the Hobo had fell out a few minutes ago.

"Well someone's very pissed off today." remarked Will. I started chuckling.

"We're closed!" he shouted

Still chuckling, I looked out the window and nearly fell out my stool in shock.

"AHHH!" I cried.

At the window, there was a man… if that's how you would want to describe it. It had its face pressed up eagerly on the glass. I-it had no-no- no no… mouth! All around the cheek were teeth marks like someone had bit it off. It had instead a toothy grin, a yellowy grey grin stained with blood. As my eyes travelled up from that grin, I noticed that his skin was falling off exposing the red stingy muscle below, but that wasn't the worst part. It was the eyes. As my eyes locked with his I recoiled in horror. His eyes had no colour, just a strange, dead, hungry gleam. It was awful. My shudder excited the beast, he begun to pound the glass franticly, all the time while staring at me.

Another horrified gasp came from my left where that thirty something woman with the laptop had been sitting. I looked to my left and seen another of these-these _zombie_ like people hitting the window with a dull thud. Looking out the window I saw more of them, moving down Rowantree Street.

No way! 

"What we gonna do now!" I wailed.

Bob had come round from his fainting fit. Both Cindy and the other security guard were tending to him.

At my panic induced wail he surveyed the situation, and decided on a course of action almost immediately, he told Cindy to help Bob up. The relentless pounding was making the door creak and jerk uneasily in its frame. It didn't look like it was going to last much longer.

"First things first, "came the security guards voice. "We're going to block that door."

"With what, _Fattie?" _came the thirty something women from the other side of the room; She was wearing a nametag, which identified her as, a newspaper reporter. I didn't get long enough to read the name right it was Alice or Alison or something like that.

"There's nothing I can see that'll do the job." Her face was arranged in a sceptical expression, as if she doubted the man's integrity. I guess that comes with the territory of Journalism.

"It's quite simple really miss, you and that gentlemen there, " (he pointed at me as he said gentleman) "are both using beer barrels as tables, the weight of them'll keep the door from being forced open." He ran quickly towards the thirty something women's table.

"You son," he pointed at me again. "Help the waiter push that barrel over to the door, and hurry! That door won't hold out much longer if we don't get something about it."

Will and I immediately made a start on pushing the table towards the door. The keg weighed an absolute ton! Our frantic struggling paid off and we managed to get the barrel wedged at the door. Right behind us were Mark and the thirty something women pushing the second keg next to it.

The security guard overlooked the makeshift barricade and gave an approving nod.  
"Good," he turned to Will and a serious expression settled on his face he moved back towards Bob, and helped Cindy support him, "Does this bar have anywhere we can evacuate to, and call the cops?"

It was Will who answered.  
"We could use the staff room, it's on the second floor and there's a phone we can use to call for help."

"Good, then lets go to it" the security guard replied.

"Cindy! Get the key out from behind the counter would you?" shouted Will "And take out the gun would you? I've a feeling we may be needing it."

I watched as Cindy headed to the back of the counter and stopped besides the till and pulled out a key with a red tag, presumably for the staff room and a small, black, handgun.

"Got it" Cindy yelled. "I'll go unlock the door."

She took off towards the door and I begun to follow. The security guard placed a hand on my shoulder and directed me to his ill comrade.

"Help me take him upstairs son." I helped shoulder Bob who was barely standing by himself, whilst the security guard cast a last look around, the gun on the counter caught his eye. It was still lying there, glinting darkly in the dull light emanating from the ceiling.

"Wait a second." He commanded.

_Hey! Com'on! Survival of the darn fittest! I need to go! Those weirdoes are gonna break in any minute now. I don't have time for this_! My thoughts screamed, but something held me back and for once I listened.

He strode over to the bar and picked the gun up. Then he did something with it. He slid some rectangular shaped thing and looked at it. I took this opportunity to look around the room. Will, Cindy and the reporter women had already left the room, and this Bob guy was no featherweight. I was struggling to hold him upright for much longer.

"Hmm…. A full clip could be handy." I heard him mutter to himself.

The security guard slipped the handgun into his waistband and walked briskly back over and helped me with Bob. We then walked very slowly towards the door Cindy and the others had gone through. We laboured up the steps, (after the Security guard had locked the door that led into the stairway and pushed a heavy chest of drawers so that they blocked the doorway) and stumbled through an open doorway. We arrived into what looked like a roomy enough place. It had some armchairs a desk, a sofa, a TV in the top corner where the armchairs and sofa's met and a dartboard! Awesome! I can shoot some darts while I wait for the cops to arrive and bust some ass.

As we came in we heard Cindy on the phone, telling the police about our current plight. "They're trying to force entry to the premises; we've blocked and barricaded the doorway so to stop them from gaining access. We're currently holed up in the staff room. How many people? I don't know five to ten; I think we don't know if they have weapons, though."

She stopped for a moment, as a garbled female voice came down the line.

"Oh! You meant how many people are with me? Six people including myself. You'll send a unit as soon as possible? Thank you very much!" with a smile, she put the receiver down.

Man she's not your stereotypical dumb blonde is she? Smart Ass!

The security guard and I put Bob down on the sofa, he just sat there breathing in deeply, and he looked bad, whatever was wrong with him it was eating away at him.

Will had turned the TV on, and changed the channel to a grey and fuzzy picture of what looked like… downstairs!

"The Jackmeister had the bar installed with a CCTV system, in case of any thefts in the middle of the night. One of his many precautions; we've yet to see any burglary's here at Jack's" he explained, "So with it we can see what's going on downstairs." We all crammed round the TV screen (except for Bob sat with his eyes closed.) Nothing much had changed although the door was still bouncing against its hinges. I quickly lost interest in the TV and made my way too the fridge I hadn't noticed when I came in. Now that it had my attention I opened it.

Inside were lots of cans of beer.

Yes score! Freebie! 

I picked up a can of beer, and opened it. The loud hiss made everyone jump.

"Beer?" I said innocently

The reporter was giving me a filthy look. Cindy was wearing an expression that looked torn between laughing and telling me off. Will was doubled over in fits of silent laughter. The security guard had a small smile on his face. The faintest sounds of laughter could be heard from Bob.

"What?" I shrugged, trying to look as innocent as possible. I failed miserably though. I had a small smile on my face.

Everyone broke into peals of laughter.


	4. Recruitment, RPD Style

Raccon Police Station locker room.

7:24 pm 09/23/98

Only two people were in the otherwise normally packed locker room of the RPD. This was unusual, but there had recently been a personnel shortage with the flu epidemic that had hit the force. More than half the force were off sick, or spent their shifts in sniffle induced sneezing fits, fevers and in some cases severe itchiness. As such while overtime hadn't been made compulsory as of yet, it was only a matter of time before Chief Irons acted. What was even worse was that reported crimes of the cannibal culture were increasing and even more worrying, they were spreading into the city limits. Yesterdays reports had placed them just on the outskirts of town, near the town hospital, and park district. People were worried, and the riots earlier today at the football stadium had stretched the force to breaking point. The press were having a field day.

The pressure to respond to the publics worry had sparked this standoff in the locker room. Kevin Ryman was a young small stocky, brown haired, chocolate eyed officer who wanted to have fun and wanted the night off, disregarding the current staff shortage.

On the other hand Sergeant Raymond Douglas was a tall imposing figure with dirty ash blond hair and cold blue eyes that took everything in. He was well built for a man of his forties and was a stickler for authority. He was known to pull rank on anybody to achieve the desired result, whenever possible.

"_Ryman_!" called a gravely, harsh voice aimed at Ryman who had just started to get changed into his normal clothes. Ryman stopped changing for a moment.

"What is it Ray?" he asked quickly and aggressively, hoping to get rid of the sergeant

"I need your help," replied Ray, "I was hoping that you could help me with a-"

"No," said Kevin "Look Ray, I'd love to help you know? But I have other more _important_ things to do tonight." He emphasised the word 'important' hoping it would stave off Rays annoying perpetual badgering, and resumed changing.

It was a false hope, Ray knew exactly what Kevin had meant by 'important' and had decided emotional blackmail was the way of guilt tripping Kevin into helping him.

"You mean you'd rather get drunk than help out doing some overtime and helping us out. Look Ryman," Rays face frowning, his eyes pleading "You know me; I wouldn't ask you unless it really was a problem. But we are seriously understaffed today. I mean look in here, we're the only two people this isn't what it's normally like you know?"

Kevin glanced up and for the first time noticed that the room was too quiet to be anything but normal, he again paused getting changed to reflect on the situation. Ray had spotted the chink in Ryman's defensive block pressed in his advantage, like a falcon spotting a rabbit.

"Besides Ryman, you know what alcohol does to you, it damages the brain for crying out loud and wreaks havoc with your liver, and do you want to die when you're …." He continued in an impassioned tone, his gravely voice failing to drone into Kevin's head, as it was a lecture that was all too familiar.

_Thirty five. _Kevin thought to himself_. Yeah, Yeah, Ray. I know_._ I hate you when you do this. You won't shut up until I do as you say. You always lecture me on the effects of getting ratted, and what it does to you. Can't say that its not so impressive coming from a reformed alcoholic, but I wouldn't dare say that to your face. You don't deserve that, though the thought has crossed my mind once or twice. _

_Come to think of it_ _though, I know I'm not going to get that vacation time I've been wanting, with the force as stretched as it is, any leave requests going to get cancelled by that fat bastard Irons ._

Kevin's face tightened as he made his mind up, _I'm going to regret this somehow_ he thought.

"All right, All right! " Shouted Kevin putting his hands up in surrender. This gesture cut across Ray's lecture "I'll do it. But I want it down as over time. Got it?"

Ray flashed a rare grin at Kevin.

"Meet me in the car parking lot in five minutes Ryman, I'll clock you in ok? "

Ray then caught Kevin's eye. Whenever Kevin had a smartass comment his eyes had a mischievous glint about them. Right now they were sparkling.

"And, I'll fill you in our secret mission while we're making our way there all right?" laughed Ray " Not until then, it'll spoil the surprise. Be a good boy and hurry up." Ray turned and left Kevin to get changed.

"Damn you're no fun!" muttered Kevin as Ray closed the door.


End file.
